Page 52 of Isabelle and the Beast

I give him a small smile, and he leans down, pressing a sweet kiss on my forehead. I suck in a breath at the contact of his lips on my skin. It’s just a kiss on my forehead, but it sends sparks down to the tips of my toes.

“Sleep well…Belle,” he says.

I look up at him, and he has uncertainty in hiseyes, like he’s wondering if he crossed a line using the nickname from my mother.

It’s the exact opposite. My eyes feel wet, and my face fills with a huge grin. He smiles back at me, and if he wanted to kiss me, I think I’d let him.

But instead, he just nods, releases me, and leaves.

Oh, Adam Stone. What are you doing to me?

Chapter

Twenty-Three

ISABELLE

Iwasn’t able to sleep well last night, even with my movies. If anything, the movies and all their romance made it worse.

All night, I’ve been replaying my conversation with Adam and remembering the look in his eyes when he talked about his mother, or the feel of his lips gently touching my forehead. I could hear his voice calling me “Belle,” warming my heart.

I’m twitterpated by Adam Stone.

I spent most of the night watching movies and drifting in and out of sleep. These couches in the theater are ridiculously comfortable. At six thirty, I return to my bedroom to get ready, and, as usual, Brigette is there.

“Good morning, Ms. Isabelle!” she chirps.

“Good morning, Brigette,” I reply. “I have to get ready for my interview this morning.”

She claps her hands together in delight. “May I please do your hair?”

I tilt my head side to side, figuring she might as well. She’s been begging me every morning since I got here. “Sure.”

She jumps in the air and rushes over to the vanity, fasterthan I expected her to be able to move. “I thought you’d never agree!”

With a laugh, I follow her lead and sit in the chair at the vanity. She starts brushing my hair, meeting my eyes in the mirror and smiling at me.

“I never had a daughter,” she says.

“No?”

She shakes her head. “Two boys. And they’ve given me wonderful grandsons, but no girls to spoil. Even when Miss Lily was here, her mother was the one who would do her hair. I’ve always wanted a little girl to pamper. I have four sisters, and we used to do each other’s hair all the time.”

“Four? And I thought I grew up in a house full of girls.”

She laughs. “There were five of us. My poor father. But it taught him a lot about empathy.”

“Wow.” We sit in silence for another couple of minutes, as she plugs in a curling iron and starts sectioning out my hair.

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything extravagant. But I’m an expert with a curling iron.”

“I believe you.” And I truly do. I was hesitant before, but maybe I should’ve let her give me a makeover when I first got here.

“So, you and Mr. Stone seemed to have a nice conversation last night,” she says, a teasing lilt in her voice.

My cheeks flush red, completely visible in the mirror. “We did.”

“It seems that you’ve developed a…friendship?” She keeps her focus on my hair, making it easier for me to think and respond.

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